Divertissement
by SChimes
Summary: Sharon is finding it a little challenging to pay attention to "The Nutcracker", this time around. Episode tag to 3.13.


**I had a lot of opinions about this episode, but I think the strongest one is that Sharon just looked *so* uncomfortable throughout, and the scene at her condo at the end can't really have made her LESS uncomfortable, right? And also I had opinions about our favorite idiot teenager educating his mother on her love life in front of other people. So this is mostly what you will find in this tag! Did I mention Sharon being awkward and uncomfortable? There's a lot of that.**

**Divertissement**

Sharon didn't get to enjoy that night's performance nearly as much as she'd planned.

It had nothing to do with the play – though she'd seen "The Nutcracker" a dozen times (many more if she counted Emily's rehearsals), it never got old. And the night's production was no less charming for being put on by a ballet school and not a professional company: Nicole's two stepsons were every bit as cute and quite a bit more coordinated than the year before, the costumes were flawless, the orchestra skilled. Everything sparkled, white and gold and red and beautiful.

Too bad she couldn't focus on the stage for more than a few seconds.

Coming tonight might have been a bad idea. Maybe she should have excused herself and Rusty, after dinner... But no, that would've not only been extremely rude, backing out at the last-minute, but it might've affected Nicole and Andy's enjoyment as well, and the _last_ thing that Sharon wanted was to cause problems between them. That would've been a terrible thing to do – after all the times she'd promised Andy her support in this, after all his efforts to make amends to his children...

Hm. Maybe if she'd been _less_ invested in Andy's efforts, she wouldn't have ended up in this situation in the first place.

But...

But it was also... that is to say, she was kind of... but she'd never _intended_ to... Sure, she enjoyed her outings with Andy _very_ much, that was true, but this wasn't a matter of... that is, she'd never …

Ugh.

She crumpled the edges of the playbill in her hands until she managed to give herself a papercut.

* * *

><p>At first, she'd thought that the mild embarrassment after the confrontation with Nicole had faded.<p>

She'd thought everything was...fine. (Fine?) Maybe...settled, she amended. She'd thought the misunderstanding had been settled. Sort of. (Hadn't it?)

In truth, their post-dinner conversation had gotten a little too far out of her control for Sharon to be _entirely_ sure what the conclusion had been. But surely it had been...something.

Yes.

Something.

She'd pulled the condo door shut behind her and willfully suppressed the instinct to process things in more depth right then; the middle of the hallway, with Nicole, Andy and Rusty waiting by the elevator, was hardly the right place for any serious introspection.

Instead, she'd anchored her hands inside her coat pockets and tried to smile away her bemusement.

It had only partly worked. On the car ride over, her stomach had flipped anxiously a few times when she'd thought Nicole or Andy might bring up the issue again. Or Rusty. (_Rusty_.) She'd tensed up every time he'd opened his mouth for a good hour afterward.

But no one had said anything else on the suddenly-controversial matter of her friendship with Andy. Sharon, long used to smiling through her discomfort, had kept up her end of their small talk just fine.

* * *

><p>At the theater, there hadn't been much time to do anything but say a quick 'hello' to Nicole's stepsons and wish them good luck. Then they'd all headed to their seats, Nicole letting her husband head down their row first, and Andy following his daughter. Sharon had resisted the temptation to maneuver Rusty ahead of her, because she didn't want any further comments or meaningful looks.<p>

She'd sat down next to Andy with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

He'd grinned up at her, looking so cheery and carefree that she wanted to strangle him.

But... no, it wasn't fair to blame him for being relieved that Nicole wasn't mad at him. Sharon understood. In his position, she might've felt happy and relieved, too. Except she wasn't in his position, and in _her_ position, she felt anything but.

Still. She'd settled in the seat and tried to compartimentalize better.

She didn't even know what was eating at her more. The things that Rusty had said? He was wrong. Wasn't he? _God – _or was it the fact that he'd _said_ anything in the first place? And Nicole's insistence to hear the details, and...the way that everything had spiraled into something completely... _baffling_, and – anyway, _why_ was this being discussed at _all?! _At which point had Sharon given off the impression that her personal life was up for public debate?!When she'd invited Andy and Nicole for dinner, she'd meant to facilitate clearing up a misunderstanding between them, she certainly hadn't signed up for a class analysis of her personal choices, and if anyone had _bothered_ to ask –

"What do you think, Sharon?"

– what?

Seeing Andy leaning toward her seat, she almost flinched. "Ah..." Nervously, she smiled and straightened her shoulders and pushed a little farther into the right armrest. "Think about what...?"

"Favorite dance number," provided Nicole's husband; the young woman nodded, grinning:

" – Clara and the Nutcracker, of course, Dad... come on, like there could even be another answer."

"I don't know, Nic... me, I still kinda like the part where all those human-sized mice come out from behind the Christmas tree."

Nicole laughed at him; then they both directed questioning looks at Sharon, who returned another diplomatic smile:

"Oh... I don't know that I could pick just _one_ favorite."

"Do they have like, special effects, or flying trapeze artists and stuff?" In the seat to her right, Rusty was turning the playbill over in his hands. "I saw something like that on TV a few weeks ago."

Nicole laughed again.

"Rusty," sighed Sharon, "it's a local ballet school performance, not the Balshoi."

"The – what?"

"Famous Russian theater."

"Oh."

"You know, Rusty, if it's trapeze artists you want," Nicole said thoughtfully, "I think Cirque du Soleil might be coming down here in a couple of months. Actually, the boys might love that too, now that I think about it – right, honey?"

What? No –

"Is that like, that famous circus we saw on TV last Christmas? 'cause yeah, that was pretty awesom – "

No. "_No_."

Sharon cringed; she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I mean...yes," she amended self-consciously. "We did watch that last year, that's right." She was surprised he remembered, since he'd spent most of the show badgering her to switch channels so he could watch "Elf" for the fourth time.

The fact that Nicole and Andy were starting to show matching expressions of enthusiasm at the whole Cirque du Soleil business made her grit her teeth. Providentially, the lights went off before anything else could be said on the issue, and so at least she was spared from having to wrangle the "let's go as a family" beast again under her less than auspicious circumstances.

* * *

><p>A few moments after the orchestra started playing, Andy turned in his seat to smile at her; Sharon clasped her fingers together on her lap and tried for a smile that was neither forced nor inviting. She was reasonably certain that she'd failed on both counts, because even in the dim lighting she could tell that the lieutenant was now frowning.<p>

Maybe it served it him right.

No, that was a terribly unkind thought.

She spent the rest of the overture fidgeting in her seat, until her back started hurting from the tension.

* * *

><p>This wasn't Andy's fault. Entirely – this wasn't Andy's fault <em>entirely<em>.

And it wasn't Nicole's fault, of course...although, _why_ Nicole thought that her father's personal relationships were a factor that should influence her regard of him... but no, the young woman's state of mind wasn't Sharon's business to judge, and this...this _mess_ definitely wasn't Nicole's doing.

It wasn't Rusty's fault, either, though he had merrily pulled the rug from underneath Sharon's feet with exactly _zero_ regard for her feelings, and... had she even taught him anything at _all_ about how to think before he spoke?! Sure, she'd _thought_ she had, but obviously she'd misjudged that, and...and honestly, just how many _other_ things was she going to turn out to be completely off the mark about that night, because _really_...

Sharon let out a quiet sigh, shifted in her seat, and tried to focus on the stage and children's dance. The lights, she noted, were a little off center.

The lights weren't the only thing that was a little off that night.

She should've foreseen this, and headed it off long ago. She never should have allowed things to progress to a place where the status of her friendship with Andy was in question. She should have... if only she'd_ thought things out_, instead of just...

But she couldn't believe Andy had told Nicole that they were a couple.

A _couple_.

Dear God.

And the way Rusty had called her out on what he thought was going on...

She fought the urge to groan and cover her face with her hands, and forced her attention back to the stage again instead. Her mind easily caught up with the performance, the music falling into place in a familiar pattern. She tried to make her shoulders relax.

Emily used to laugh at her over this, but the graceful flurry that preceded Drosselmeyer's arrival was one of Sharon's favorite parts. Nowhere near as spectacular or high-level as most of the other numbers, but it had some quality about it that she found...soothing.

She adjusted her position once more, crossing and uncrossing her ankles; her leg muscles were cramping from all the tension. From the corner of her eye she noticed Andy turning slightly to give her another glance. Her fingers started to worry around the edges of the playbill again.

It was the single most mentally exhausting Christmas ballet she'd ever experienced.

* * *

><p>The first act ended before she was prepared for it, and she jumped slightly when the applause started. When the lights came back on, she winced, her eyes too tired from the strain to handle the sudden brightness.<p>

They filed out patiently along the rest of the performers' families and guests, and drifted toward a less crowded corner of the small lobby. Nicole and her husband had stopped to exchange smiles and quiet words of praise with a couple of other parents they knew. All of them looked happy, proud – and for good reason, Sharon thought with a private smile. She could still remember when it was her in these parents' shoes, and she'd have raved for hours to anyone listening about what a beautiful job Emily was doing on stage.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

She jumped again at the sound of Andy's voice near her shoulder; he was nodding in the direction of the increasingly crowded snack bar. "Oh – no, thank you." She managed a smile in his direction, before turning to her son with a similar offer. "Rusty, if you'd like a snack or a soda before we head back in, there's the bar..."

But the boy cast one glance at the line, and shook his head. "Uh, I'm good."

Andy took one step closer, his look half-searching, half-wary. "So...ah... kids did a nice job, huh? I mean, uh, Nicole's boys. They're getting pretty good, right? I mean, not that I'm an _expert_ or anything..."

Sharon took a step back. "They were _very_ good, yes," she hummed in agreement.

Andy paused in his tracks. "Right... Yeah..." He shifted on the balls of his feet, and cringed when she took another cautious step back. Then he pulled at his tie knot. "So..." A pause.

Sharon smiled tightly.

"But yeah, are you sure you don't want a cup of tea or anything?"

Oh god.

She assured the lieutenant again that she was fine; thankfully, he didn't insist further.

In truth, she very much _did_ want a cup of tea, actually, thank you – but she wanted it _in_ her home, and _by herself_. Neither of which was an option at the moment. Unfortunately.

The silence was getting a little awkward, though.

She tapped her foot to the carpet, trying to think of something to say that could in no way be open to any interpretation whatsoever.

Andy pulled on his tie knot again.

Rusty looked from one of them to the other, then grimaced. "Sooo..." he spoke up - and faced with their ridiculously desperate looks he tried to think of some kind of conversation starter, "...is the second act like, as long as this one...?"

Sharon closed her eyes with a silent sigh.

* * *

><p>"So, what did you think?" A smiling Nicole had rejoined them, having finished her chat with another parent. "Rusty, how do you like the show so far?"<p>

Sharon shot the young man a warning glare when he opened his mouth; her eyebrows arching in what she hoped was a clear order to make an _appropriate_ response, and not just blurt out his first opinion.

For a change.

"I – uh..." He caught her look in time, and raised his own eyebrows in that expression he wore when he was trying to look persuasive. "Yeah, it was... something. Ah... everyone dances really well," he hurried to add. "And like, the _music..._that was...really... iconic."

Sharon rolled her eyes and caught the end of Andy's quiet snicker.

"You don't say," smirked the lieutenant.

"The boys are doing a beautiful job," Sharon told Nicole, sparing Rusty more effort. "And they're so much more _confident_, even with the more advanced moves...!"

"Thank you! Yeah, they've been practicing a lot – and their teacher's been trying to get them over their stage-fright... It's a bit of a process, but..."

"Hey, looks to me like they're over it," smiled Andy. "They were doing real great up there, Nic."

"Right? I mean, I'm not exactly objective here, but..."

Sharon let the conversation go on around her, relieved that everything seemed to be going fine between Andy and his daughter, at least – and that no one else looked like they were planning to bring up any personal topics.

Except... Andy was still shooting her those sort-of-worried glances.

She understood it. She did. And she didn't _mean_ to make him uncomfortable, too. Honestly – she still hadn't had the time to process her own thoughts on the matter, so she wasn't going to act displeased with him without having a solid handle on what she was feeling and why. She definitely wasn't _trying_ to make him sweat.

But she wasn't exactly in a place where she could be overly accommodating of his sensibilities, either.

She could go through with their evening. Be a pleasant companion. But when her resources had to go into navigating this social situation that had turned out unexpectedly uncomfortable for her, she wasn't about to employ many extra efforts to reassure Lt. Andrew "some way or other Nicole got the wrong idea about us" Flynn that all was well.

She wasn't even sure that all _wasn't_ well. Maybe things were fine. Maybe she was exaggerating. It had been a long day.

But _couple_. Dating. _Rusty_.

Ugh.

"...Sharon?"

What...?

Rusty was staring at her hands, his eyebrows up in his hairline. "Are you _bleeding_?"

_What_. Ah... "Oh – no... it's just a papercut." She unclenched her fingers from around the edges of the glossy paper. "From the playbill..."

This was what happened when her dress didn't have pockets.

Rusty gave her a funny look, and pointed out that she had like, _five_ papercuts. On both hands. "Maybe I should hold your playbill for you," he offered dryly.

Her son, the comedian.

* * *

><p>"Uh, listen, Sharon..."<p>

She hummed promptingly at Nicole as she washed her hands over the small sink. The soapy water stung as it ran over the small cuts on her fingers.

"I couldn't help but notice that you looked...maybe, a little uncomfortable, back there?"

Oh, no.

Dear God, hadn't she had _enough_ for one night?

"So – it wasn't my intention... I mean, if what I said to Dad made you feel uncomfor – "

Sharon waved a hand just a little too abruptly, "Oh! Oh, no, no – please," she smiled at Nicole, "don't worry about that." She laughed a little and hurried to grab a paper towel.

"Are you sure? Because I definitely didn't mean to make things awkward between you and my dad..."

Oh God. "No! No – that's not..." Sharon cleared her throat. "There's really no need to be concerned about that, Nicole. There isn't. I'm – I'm _glad_ that we had that conversation earlier," she assured in as convinced a tone as she could summon, "if it served to clear up any...ah, misunderstandings, between you and your father."

She wasn't thrilled with the long look Nicole gave her.

'Clear up misunderstandings'. Was that really what had happened? (It didn't feel like that was what had happened.)

Still. This wasn't the time to figure things out, and Sharon certainly wasn't going to engage in another round of twenty questions about her personal life.

She tossed the paper towel – by now beleaguered into a pathetic little ball in her hands – in the nearest trash can, and checked her watch.

"Oh – I think intermission must be about to end, no? Maybe another couple of minutes." She smiled. "Should we head back...?"

Nicole looked undecided for a moment, nodding in half-hearted agreement. "Right. I guess, yeah. I just want to make sure that everything's okay," she insisted. "And – Sharon, I hope you won't think that I'm interfering where it's none of my business..."

Sharon twitched.

"...but...uh, I meant what I said about your influence on my dad. He's...different. I've been seeing it. And I think a lot of it is thanks to you."

Oh.

"I had nothing to do with that," said Sharon earnestly. "Nicole, your father has been working hard to do things right where you and your brother are concerned," she added softly, "and to show you that he can be someone to rely on. Being there for you – for both of you – is _so_ important to him."

"No, I know...I mean, I can tell that he's trying a lot, even though...well, sometimes it doesn't really... well," Nicole pulled a face, "you know my dad. Even when he's got the best intentions, sometimes he can be a little..."

"Ah." Sharon coughed out an awkward laugh. "Yes..."

"But he _means_ well."

Right. "I'm sure."

"And he really _is_ better when you're around."

"Mm."

God, she really needed that cup of tea.

* * *

><p>Sharon didn't look like she was enjoying herself all that much.<p>

Rusty wasn't sure why, but she'd been kinda jumpy and weird all evening. Every time his gaze landed on her she was shifting in her seat or clasping her hands or swallowing dryly, and there was a slight downward twist to her lips that he'd seen plenty of times before.

He'd have rolled his eyes and pointed out to her that see, even _she_ was bored with this stuff, "iconic" music and all. Except she didn't look _bored_, so much as...

...well – tense, he guessed. If he had to pick a word. It was dark and he couldn't exactly stare at her until he could put his finger on it, but judging from the glimpses he got, Sharon looked kinda tense.

It wasn't long before her fidgeting caused a vague sense of unease to start building up in his stomach. He tried not to think about it too much, but it kept nagging at him. Sharon had given him a couple of those _looks_...

The looks never boded well.

So unfair – _she_ was the one who'd wanted him to come to this thing in the first place! He hadn't _asked_ to be put through two hours of ballerinas in nightgowns dancing in circles, and if she was gonna just drag him along to use as a buffer, the least she could do was not spend the whole night _glaring_ at him, okay?

...hmm. _Buffer_. Why did that word make him feel uneasy?

What was it that Sharon had said on the topic, the other day? Oh, that she really didn't want to get into any sort of personal conversations with Nicole and Andy, so...

...oh.

_Oh_.

Ah.

Rusty scratched his neck, and tried to think of an angle in which he had _not_ done the _exact opposite_ of what Sharon had asked.

The second act, it turned out, was not long enough for him to come up with something.

* * *

><p>"So...that was fun."<p>

Sharon hummed, and turned slightly to give him a pointed, knowing look over her shoulder while she took off her heels.

They'd made like, small talk and whatever on the ride back with Lt. Flynn, but Sharon had had that expression and that tone that said she was _thinking_ about stuff, and Sharon's thinking face usually resulted in long 'discussions' on the couch in which she used the low voice thing and Rusty felt very small.

He wondered if he could make a run for his room before she had a chance to get started.

"So, uh... I'm kinda tired," he yawned, backing slowly up the hall, "so I think I'm gonna... go to bed. Yup. Uh, but, yeah, great play..."

She'd taken off her coat and folded it over her arm, and was currently rubbing a sore spot on her neck. "Goodnight," she murmured. "Sleep well."

What? Really?

Rusty jogged the rest of the way to his room in case she changed her mind – but once safely inside, he could admit that that was _weird_. When did Sharon ever let him get off that easily? She hadn't even reminded him to hang up his suit.

Huh. Maybe she _wasn't_ actually displeased with him. He shrugged as he took off his jacket: maybe everything was fine and she'd just had like, an off night or something. Maybe dinner hadn't agreed with her. Yeah. That was probably it.

He settled on the bed with his laptop after changing into his pajamas, and googled some random _Badge of Justice_ forum. Then he IMDB'ed Jeff. But Jeff didn't have a profile on there – the show apparently didn't list assistant directors, not even under 'full cast and crew'. Which was like, totally ridiculous, because Jeff did a _ton_ of work. Whatever, IMDB was stupid.

He went to Jeff's Facebook instead.

After a couple of minutes he decided that fine, maybe he could hang up his jacket and fold his pants. That way Sharon wouldn't complain that he was being messy. Which like, he totally wasn't.

He wondered if Sharon had gone to bed already. Had he actually said goodnight to her...?

That ballet, though. That had been seriously weird. And what was up with the decapitated doll, anyway?Maybe he should google the plot.

He plugged his phone in to charge, and read the time on the screen. Yeah, Sharon definitely would've gone to bed by now. It was almost like, eleven-thirty, which was kind of past her bedtime. Plus, she'd looked pretty tired. Maybe that was why she'd been all weird at the ballet.

Maybe.

Totally.

Yeah.

Rusty sighed.

Then with a muffled groan he dragged himself back out of the room.

* * *

><p>He found Sharon standing near the stove, arms crossed, watching the kettle. She'd not even changed out of her dress yet. Great – <em>that<em> boded well.

Why was everything so _complicated_ with Sharon?

"Hey."

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, and turned around, looking almost surprised.

"I thought you'd gone to sleep."

(Okay, but was it really necessary for her to give him that...that knowing-look-thing? _Sharon_.)

"Uh. Yeah. Me too. I mean I did...I mean, I'm gonna...are you making tea?"

She dipped her head a fraction. "Would you like some?"

"...sure." Ballet, tea. This night was just his favorite.

Sharon reached up into one of the cabinets and pulled another mug. She set it down next to hers, and rummaged through the tea box for a moment. He noticed that she discarded the peppermint flavor, the one he'd tried and hated that one time. "Black cherry? Ginger pear?" His nose wrinkled before he could help it. "Alright – chamomile, then. It's too late for caffeine." She picked the teabag out and replaced the box in its drawer.

Silence fell around them while they waited for the water to boil. Rusty circled the kitchen a few times, finally pulling down the honey jar and a spoon. Sharon had crossed her arms again, and leaned against the counter.

Rusty shifted on the ball of his feet.

The water inside the kettle made a slight gurgling sound...

"Okay – Sharon, are you like, mad at me?"

Again she looked a little surprised; her eyebrows arched slightly and she put down the dishrag she'd absently been toying with.

"Look, if it's because of that thing with Lt. Flynn... I thought... well, his daughter was getting all angry with him and I could tell that you didn't want _that_, either, right...? And I mean, what's the big deal anyway? If you guys are like, dating – "

"I'm not mad at you," she informed him calmly. "And Andy and I are not dating." Her look took on a note of warning when he pulled another doubtful face. "Rusty. You've already made your point, earlier. I understand why you might have seen my outings with Andy the way you did – and now I'm asking _you_ to understand that there are other aspects of this issue that you haven't considered."

Right... That sounded just like something Sharon would say. "But you're not mad."

"I'm not _mad_, no."

He grimaced at the strategic emphasis. "But... you still think I still did something wrong."

She was quiet for a moment, during which he peered blearily into his empty mug.

"What I think..." she said thoughtfully, "is that I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on any issue, no matter what. But, there is a place and a time for certain kinds of discussions, and it's important to learn to _recognize_ when the context is appropriate for bringing something up, and when it's not."

He stared at her. "So... you do think I did something wrong," he reiterated.

Sharon titled her head. "Do _you_ think there was something you could have done differently?"

"Seriously? Sharon..." He groaned at her look, and wondered why she thought these discussions had to involve like, critical thinking on his part. If only she'd tell him what he did wrong, he'd be happy to say 'sorry' and then they'd be done with it. It's not like he _wanted_ her mad at him.

She continued to fix him with the same silent look, until his shoulders slumped.

"I guess I could've waited until Lt. Flynn and Nicole weren't there..." he muttered. "But like – if I hadn't _said_ anything, Nicole would've like, gotten seriously mad at him!"

"You know that for a fact...?"

He opened his mouth with conviction, then hesitated. "Okay... I don't know that for _a fact_, no...but she was totally getting worked up because she thought that Lt. Flynn lied to her or something... and, look, Sharon, I didn't think it would be such a big deal, okay? You guys go out all the time, anyway..."

Sharon's lips pressed together. "Rusty, have I ever suggested to you that I'm dating Lt. Flynn? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"No, but... but Sharon, you go out with him like, almost _every week_...what else was I supposed to think?"

She closed her eyes briefly, and looked away. Rusty's stomach felt about the size of a pea.

"Look, okay, I get it – I'm sorry," he tried. "If you say you're not dating Lt. Flynn, fine. Okay. I – I shouldn't have … made assumptions. Even if those assumptions are like, totally logical..."

Sharon fixed him again with a sharp gaze.

"I didn't think you'd get _mad_," he told her plaintively.

She shook her head. "Rusty... how _did_ you think I'd feel?"

He blinked. "What...?"

"When you decided to intervene, earlier," she said quietly. "How did you think that would make me feel?"

He opened his mouth – and found no answer ready.

"I..."

The kettle started a very faint whistle.

Sharon had perched on one of her bar stools, one elbow propped on the counter, and was watching him with a tired look.

"I... I didn't think that you'd..." But that wasn't what she'd asked him. "I thought..."

He wrapped and unwrapped the string of the teabag around his finger, looking desperately for an answer.

Finally, he let his head drop. "I guess... I didn't think about it," he admitted in a small voice. When he managed to meet her eyes again, Sharon was just looking sad, and that made him feel even worse. "I guess I thought you'd be happy that Nicole and Lt. Flynn worked things out."

She nodded. "I'm very happy that Nicole isn't upset with her father," she said softly. "But I also felt blindsided, tonight, and – well, more than a little _embarrassed_, honestly," she breathed, "to have my son dissect my personal life to such an extent in front of other people...!"

Rusty cringed. "I'm sorry...!"

Sharon bit her lips, looking for the right words. "I understand your point of view," she nodded slowly, "and I know that you were trying to help the situation as best as you could." Clasping her hands together, she paused for a moment, to gather her thoughts. "Rusty...sometimes there are – there are things, personal matters, in our lives, which we may not be entirely comfortable judging or categorizing. For what_ever_ reason. Do you know what I mean?"

He nodded. He knew; there were still plenty of things in his life that he wasn't comfortable judging, or even thinking too much about.

"And when it comes to those aspects of our lives," Sharon went on quietly, "it's possible that we might view things in a different way, compared to how an outsider might view them. So when you abruptly challenge someone on their perspective, or call into question their beliefs about their own situations... that can be very jarring," she finished softly. "No matter how good your intentions."

Rusty swallowed hard. There was a knot in his throat. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Sharon nodded silently, and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses.

"Sharon, I'm sorry..."

She opened her eyes, her gaze warm when it met his. "I know, honey. Don't worry." The kettle was whistling in earnest now, and she nodded at him to take it off the stove. Rusty placed both their mugs on the counter and poured hot water over the tea bags. "Thank you," she said with a small, warm smile.

They spent a few seconds in silence, hands wrapped around their mugs, both of them inhaling the vaguely scented steam.

"Rusty... I meant what I said earlier," Sharon spoke quietly. "I'm not mad at you. And I _always_ want to hear your point of view."

He jerked his head in what might have been a hesitant nod.

"I do," she repeated. "Rusty, it's _so_ important to me to know what you're thinking and feeling. And – I never want you to feel like you're stuck in the middle of a situation and you can't come talk to me about it," she remembered. "If anything is making your uncomfortable, ever – "

"I know." He hurried to cut her off before they went off on a totally random tangent. "Sharon, I know. I'm not uncomfortable, okay? And I'm not, like... the 'in the middle' thing, I didn't mean it like that."

"Are you sure?"

He smiled almost against himself. "I'm _sure_."

She searched his expression for another moment, before relaxing. "Good."

"And I'm … I didn't mean to make _you_ feel uncomfortable, either."

"I know."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to enjoy "The Nutcracker" because of that."

She smiled. "No, it wasn't so bad." Then she noticed his gaze pointedly go to the half a dozen papercuts on her fingers, and she laughed. "Alright, it was... a _little_ … awkward."

Rusty snorted quietly. "A little?"

Sharon narrowed her eyes at him.

He stared into his mug for a second, thinking. "If you want to like...go again, or something...I can – we can go... I don't know, like when Ricky and Emily get here..."

The look that Sharon gave him made his cheeks burn, so he went back to staring at the tea.

"I'll keep that in mind," she murmured. After a few seconds she spoke again, and he could _hear_ the smile in her voice. "Or maybe we'll have Emily give us a performance at home." A pause, then, "I'll sing the music, of course."

Rusty snorted again, his tea going down the wrong way.


End file.
